


oral fixation

by mobysfunhouse



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Major Character Injury, Medical Torture, Medical Trauma, Other, Restraints, Rough Oral Sex, Tooth Pulling, dentistry gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobysfunhouse/pseuds/mobysfunhouse
Summary: wet and gummy.
Relationships: Richard Trager/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	oral fixation

**Author's Note:**

> TW for oral trauma, teeth being yanked out, tragers nasty dick. idk! the normal stuff!
> 
> reader's gender is unspecified and genitalia isn't mentioned.

Your head hurts. 

Your body hurts too, but you’re not fully present there yet- just existing in your rattled skull. Eyes stay shut, like if you somehow squeeze them tight you’ll fall back into the safety of sleep and wake up somewhere that isn’t here, everything feels shallow and far away like you’ve been washed up on shore. Slowly, you start to become aware that there’s a dim, fluorescent bulb overhead that flickers and emanates a dull hum. The sound brings you closer to the surface before finally, you open your eyes.

You’re sitting on some kind of old dental examination chair, the industrial medical restraints are fastened uncomfortably tight around your wrists, forearm and bicep. Tight enough to turn your extremities purple and throbbing from the lack of circulation. The room smells vaguely of piss underneath the unmistakable smell of mildew and cheap pine floor cleaner.

Slowly, your brain starts to work again as you try to remember exactly how you got here, your head is numb and throbbing where you’ve been hit with something. You remember unsuccessfully trying to slip by a group of patients, being noticed, running, colliding with someone. Vague feelings of your nails scraping against concrete floor, struggling to get to your feet and run, then nothing.

It all comes rushing back to you with an alarming ferocity. Panic rising, your arms jerk and squeeze uselessly underneath the restraints as you struggle to swivel and look around the room. Leather squeaks against metal, the frame of the chair creaks but nothing else happens. _Shitshitshitshitshit_. You’re freaking out now, mouth dry, adrenaline-fried muscles straining to move as you thrash in a panic. Someone’s got you. Someone’s got you and you’ve finally run out of luck, all of this was for nothing. In a few hours you’ll probably be dead, torn apart by vengeful patients.

There’s a muffled voice down the hallway and you stop squirming momentarily in an attempt to hear what’s being said. You can barely make anything out, a quick pelt of laughter and the steady, slow padding of bare feet on dusty asbestos tile.

The door swings open and bounces off of the wall hard enough that you think it’s going to shatter the safety-glass window. It’s not one of the patients from earlier. You’ve never seen the man in front of you before and you don’t know if it makes you feel better or worse.

This must have been who you had run into. Here in the light you’re able to take him in, head spinning with fear as it becomes increasingly apparent that you’re probably in more danger than before. “Look at you! Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.” He lilts, before suddenly moving forward to approach you.

Your eyes follow the rusted, knicked pair of bone shears that he thankfully sets on the stainless steel basin across from you. “I was a little worried you were gonna… Y’know...” He gestures with a swiping motion of his hand at his neck and a click of his tongue. “...with that nice little bonk on the head you got.” You don’t say anything, simply stare at him like an animal. 

“Well, consider yourself lucky. Those nasty freaks back there were really about to tear you a new one.” He turns and stalks over to the cabinet on the far side of the room, bare ass on display as he bends down to rifle through what sounds like empty boxes and broken glass. “But don’t feel like you need to thank me or anything.” Incoherent mumbling. You wonder if you were better off with the patients. 

“I’m gonna be doing something a little less… Uh, traditional with you.” He explains, withdrawing a heavy canvas roll from the cabinet and setting it on the rolling tray next to your chair. You’re getting uneasy now, exhausted and frayed. 

“Get away from me.” You spit when he unrolls the canvas to reveal an array of different, gleaming tools. Trying to sound tough like your voice isn’t shaking underneath your facade of bravery. “Get that shit the fuck away from me- Get the fuck back, I’ll-” You jerk in your chair like it’ll make any difference, like you’ll somehow get away. 

Trager stares at you, raising a brow for a second before laughing casually, tossing his head back. “Woah, woah there now-” He dramatically raises both of his hands, condescending. “Easy now, killer. I’ll be real quick, pull your panties out of your ass.” He turns his attention back to his equipment, pondering for a moment before you hear the shrill motor of a dental drill. 

“Alright, you’re gonna have to bear with me, kid.” He rolls his shoulders, myofibril visible through his leathery skin as the muscles in his pecs move and contract. “I didn’t get my degree in dentistry.” Trager laughs and cracks his knuckles before suddenly throwing a leg over your lap and settling on top of you. Alarm bells rattle in your brain and you jerk against the sudden weight, gangly legs slipping onto either side of your hips. “Ohh, am I making you nervous?” He winks at you, lifting up the drill and giving it another whirr. 

Trager looks down at you and you can see the shredded part of his lips lift into a smirk through the part of his mask that’s been shredded away. “No reason to be shy here…” 

A dirty, coppery thumb shoves its way into your mouth and he ratchets your jaw open with a surprising amount of strength, nail clicking against one of your back teeth. “Hmm… Oh yeah… You got some real nice ones in there…” He mutters, peering deep into your mouth as he pokes around with his thumb experimentally. “Yeah… someone will pay a buffalo nickel for these babies.” 

Saliva pools in the space between your lip and bottom incisors, eventually running down your chin and dribbling a little onto his stained apron. “Just gotta get em out. Ha.” He withdraws his hand and pats you roughly on the cheek, drawing a wince from you. 

“See, normally I go for the more practical bits. Y’know, kidneys, corneas, livers.” You’re terrified, quads flexing nervously underneath his lithe hips. This is it, end of the road. All of the running, all of the stupid sets of stairs you’ve tripped down, dusty vents you’ve crawled through, all the broken glass that’s cut up your hands, all for nothing. This is where you’re going to die. There's a part of you that still doesn’t quite accept it, refuses to believe it. Denial stage, isn’t that what they call it? “But you gotta switch it up sometimes, put some pep in it, yeah?” He hums, glancing down at your mouth once again.

“Sorry kiddo, would love to hit you up with some novocaine but as you can see, we’re kind of tight on supplies around here.” He gestures around the derelict room with the drill. “But you’ll be fine, right? You seem like a real good sport.” Trager shifts forward and your mouth is being forced open again despite how hard you try to clench it shut. 

Trager huffs a little, smacking your face again with his free hand. “No, no. Work with me here, c’mon.” He grunts, more inconvenienced than anything. “Say aaaaahhhhh-” He jerks down on your jaw and you can’t help but gasp in pain. “Now, keep it open, okay? I don’t have that much light to work with here.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut as the drill spins to life, a high-pitched whistle that moves from your right ear to just in front of your face. There’s the anticipation of pain that you know you’ve never felt before, you know you won’t be able to process any of it. The sound is quickly muffled by your mouth as it’s suddenly pressed to one of your bottom molars, the bit screaming as it’s met with resistance from your wet bone and flesh.

The pain is almost incomprehensible. Your vision is orange with it, breath hitching and shuddering before your throat is suddenly split open with hysterical shrieking that you didn’t know you were capable of producing. It intensifies every time he bears down harder onto your tooth before suddenly, mercifully the drill stops and he pulls his arm away to get a better look in your mouth. “Well, that didn’t work like I thought it would.” He strokes his chin for a moment before setting the drill down. 

Your mouth feels hot and you can taste the blood as it fills up, mixes with your saliva on top of the chalky taste of tooth enamel that’s been reduced into powder. You can smell it, a familiar scent that brings you back to the dentist’s chair. (You’ll have to make another appointment again soon, it’s been a while), your brain stumbles over itself with useless thoughts to try and take you anywhere but here. 

“Sometimes, you just gotta do things the good old fashioned way.” Your captor reaches down to the steel tray and produces a pair of pliers. 

The feeling of pure adrenaline grips you and you can feel your stomach sinking as you jerk back in your seat. You writhe underneath him, animal instinct to get away as your hips jerk in a vain attempt to knock him off of you. Trager gasps a little before laughing, low and smooth, deep in his chest. “You flatter me, really, but I’m trying to work here...” He purrs, grinding his bony ass back down against your motions. “Didn’t think you were into this, little freak.” Trager winks playfully at you before shoving past your slack jaw, the cold metal of the pliers smearing blood on your lower lip and clinking against your teeth.

There’s a feeling of pressure when the pliers latch onto your molar, still throbbing from the drill. Then a pull, a crunch and a sudden blast of white-hot pain explodes into your mouth along with a great gush of blood that oozes out and fills your mouth very quickly. You gasp and a noise like a scream is wrenched out of you, noises that fizzle into desperate sobbing as your tooth is yanked out of your skull. Trager lifts his prize up to the light, inspecting it. “Little scratched up from the drill… Oh well, trial and error, right?” 

He drops the tooth into his hand before tossing it over his shoulder, the piece of dentin bouncing off of the tiled wall before clattering into one of the dirty urinals along the wall.

“Please…” You jerk your head away, spitting phlegmy mouthfuls of blood out as it pours generously from the new hole in your jaw. “Stop moving.” He sounds irritated now, snatching a fistful of your hair and shaking your skull around. Your head is wrenched back and this time, the pliers grab onto one of your upper incisors, pressure tightening.

You think you might actually black out. You don’t understand how you haven’t blacked out yet, the pain is enough to make you want to puke but nothing comes up despite how you gag on fresh blood. It dribbles freely down your chin and onto Trager’s lap now in long, sticky red strands. A memory flashes before your eyes, 9 years old, flipping over the handlebars on your bike and knocking out your front teeth. You remember the blood, the sobbing, the dentist telling you not to worry and that they were only baby teeth, they’d grow back. That was a very long time ago, and your teeth don’t grow back now.

“ _Ooh_ yeahhh, that was clean.” Your captor muses as he reaches over and carefully sets the tooth down on the tray. You’re going to bust out more than just teeth when you get your hands on this piece of shit, you think to yourself. “See, kid? You’re doing great. Killin’ it over here.” His hand is still tightly gripping in your hair and the pliers are inching back towards your face again.

You keen, pathetic with fear, shaking and trembling violently underneath him as cold sweat pours over your brow. “Shshshhh…” He shushes you and the memories of your missing front teeth roll back through you, your mother combing through your hair as she drove you to the dentist. “It’s not that bad, hush. You’ve only got like… the rest of them to go.” 

There’s more crunching, more gushes of blood and unfathomable pain that makes your skull feel like it’s going to explode and fall in on itself. It’s all encompassing until it suddenly stops, pliers in his hand clanking softly as he sets them down on the rolling tray. Your tongue writhes in your mouth absentmindedly, trying to find any kind of respite from the empty ache in your face. 

Trager’s weight is still on you but he’s not doing anything, not touching you. Your eyes are wet and blurry when you open them finally and you stare at him. His hand rests over his apron, palming his length through the heavy canvas as he gazes at you. Gnarled mouth pulls into a lascivious grin and his other hand traces up your stomach to roam across your chest, then neck, then settles on your cheek. 

“You wanna take a break? Huh bud?” He asks, rough thumb stroking soothing circles on your cheek. “Plea...Pleathe…” It’s strange, trying to talk without any upper front teeth. Your voice is the same but making consonants and vowels is now insanely difficult and you stammer over yourself. “Alright, alright. I’ll cut you some slack, yeah? Don’t say I never did anything for you.” His hand shifts and is now under his apron, small bulge where he’s fisting his arousal.

You decide to stay quiet, maybe after he does... Whatever it is that he needs to do here, he’ll let you go. Maybe you can make him forget all about your teeth, what’s left of them and your bleeding mess of gums. There’s a sudden pull in you, a tiny glimmer of hope. You might actually have a chance if you play your cards right.

Staring at him, you run your tongue over your bloody upper lip, attempting to suck viscous saliva back into your mouth. “Need a hand..?” You wheeze. His head rights itself, having lolled to the side ever so slightly. “You’re _so_ polite!” Trager sneers, hands suddenly snatching your bound wrists. “You’re also real fuckin’ stupid if you think I’m going to unlatch you.” 

Dread washes through you again but you try to retain some shred of sense through murky waves of pain. “But, you could help a guy out.” His grip suddenly slips from your arms and you exhale slowly, gazing up at him as he throws back his apron. His wiry thighs are just as gnarled and scarred as the rest of his body and his cock hangs lazily, half-erect between his legs. 

He groans when he shifts, rubbing his shaft up against your upper thigh. You tense up and once more try to suck back up some of the bloody drool that leaks down your front and onto your shirt. “You’re making a real mess, kid.” Trager huffs in faux irritation before giving you a wry smile, reaching up and slowly undoing the buttons with ragged fingers.

“Ha, that’s more like it.” Trager flings your shirt open, popping the rest of the buttons off and sending them scattering to the floor below. Disappointment floods you. You liked this shirt, though you realize the flannel should be the least of your problems with the gaping holes in your face. “Like I said, don’t say I never did nothing for you.” He purrs and slides rough hands over your chest, exploring. “Ahh…” He gasps as he takes himself back in palm once more, teeth clenching as he begins to stroke. 

You try not to look down but you can’t help but stare at him. Pain rocks through your jaw as he grabs your face once more, grinning. “I can’t decide where to stick it first…” His voice is husky, rough with want. Grimy nails dig into your skin and if you had the teeth for it, you’d be biting your lip in discomfort. Instead, your bloody gums worry over each other, the teeth you have left grinding apprehensively. “Ah..” You gasp a little as he shakes you around. “I bet you got a real tight ass.”

“But... I think it would be an awful shame to let all this go to waste.” He grunts, pushing off of you and rising to his bare feet, instead settling on a single knee that digs into your lower abdomen. “No no,” He chides you when you try to jerk your face away. “Open. Open wide, say ahh-“ Palm meets your face once again in a succession of quick slaps. “There we go… Stop playing so hard to get.” 

The tip of his cock is swollen, glossy and warm when he smears it against your cheek and you meet his gaze, cruel and excited. You do your best to open as wide as you can to save the mangled meat of your mouth from any friction but it’s to no avail. Trager stuffs himself into you like you’re some kind of toy, uncaring and unrelenting as he seeks out the back of your throat. You gag instantly, too much cock all at once mixed with the salty taste of his sweat and the tang of your own blood makes you want to vomit. 

Trager seems to relish the feeling of your mouth and throat tightening and fluttering desperately around his length, a throaty hiss escaping him as he tries to steady himself while you gag. “Ohhh, that’s nice.. Thats real nice…” He groans and his hand is wound tight in your hair once more. “Fuck… I should have thought of this sooner…” His thrusts are slow but he plunges to full depth each time, drawing out to the top before bottoming out inside your fucked up face. You start gagging again, an ugly noise wrenching from your throat as you constrain against the bile mounting in your esophagus. 

He laughs, a mean sound that comes in a quick burst from his chest. “You good there little buddy?” A particularly rough thrust, you gag again. “Don’t get sick on me now.” You’re drooling even more, mouth warning you of the incoming threat of vomit that’s about to spew out of your gut. “Or do, makes no difference to me.” He laughs, followed by another stream of curses and he starts fucking into your mouth earnestly. 

There’s too much texture in your mouth, slimy blood, drool, precum and phlegm all congealing into a single mess that smears down his shaft and sloughs out of your raw lips. “That’s good, you’re doing great… Sweet thing…” He’s muttering now, caught in the wet heat and gore behind your lips. 

You try your hardest to breathe through your nose but there’s too much fluid in your mouth and it makes everything difficult. Trager doesn’t seem to notice that your jaw is slack and your bottom teeth that still remain scrape the underside of his cock. Or maybe he just doesn’t care, maybe he prefers it like this. 

Then suddenly he’s pulling out, ripping his cock out of your mouth with a wet noise leaving you gasping for breath and weeping more bloody spit down your chin in strings. “Fuck…” Tragers teeth are clenched behind what remains of his mask and his fist curls tight around his cock, slippery noises bouncing off the empty bathroom as he rushes to completion. 

“Open up wide-“ He grunts, shifting more weight onto the knee still digging into your stomach where everything’s gone numb. “C’mon kid-“ He gasps out profanities, staring you down with wild eyes. “You can do better than that, I said wide…” You can’t really even feel you’re lower face anymore except for the click of your jaw as you hold it open, tongue flexing awkwardly without the roof of your mouth to press itself against. 

He wants to see his handiwork, you realize. Wants to gaze into the now empty sockets where your teeth once sat. You stare back at him, mind skipping through memories of high school so many years ago, stainless steel contraption forcing your once crooked teeth into a perfect smile. How you had lamented the chains, rubber bands, the monthly adjustments the orthodontist would make. It’s a shame none of that matters anymore.

If you’d known this freak was just going to rip half your teeth out of your head before fucking your mouth, you would have just left them alone. 

Hot cum splats across your cheekbone and over your eye where it clings to your lashes and blurs out your surroundings. Most of it ends up in your mouth where you can hardly taste it through the copper tang of congealing hemoglobin. Some of it lands on your chin where it drips down onto your bare torso to join the rest of the assorted bodily fluids there. 

Trager still stands over you, panting like a thoroughbred as he slowly fucks his fist, other hand loosening it’s grip in your hair before he finally eases up off of you. “You gonna swallow that? Or are you gonna sit there and try to catch flies?” Trager barks out a laugh, bumping your chin with a knuckle playfully. 

You do as you’re instructed and swallow without any theatrics, one eye still squeezed shut to try and keep the watery semen out of it. Trager moves to the tray beside you and you hear the clink or pliers being lifted off of the metal surface, dread swimming in you once again. You aren’t done yet. 

“Where were we?” He asked, tapping a long nail on the grips. You stare up at him with your one eye, trying to hide the full body shiver that you can’t keep back any longer. “Ha! My bad!” He laughs again and grabs the corner of his dirty apron, lifting it and wiping at the cum over your eye. 

“There. That’s better, right?” He’s really just smeared the mess around and when you open your eye it stings. Trager doesn’t give you time to answer before he’s pushing your head back once again, mouth being pulled open, pliers being shoved down your throat once more. “Hang in there bud.” They clank against a premolar and it rattles your whole skull. 

You pass out when the pulling starts again, panicked screeching turning into slurred panting as everything turns blurry, then black.


End file.
